


[Please] Will You Be Gentle With My Heart?

by RavenclawWitch18



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Depressed Bucky Barnes, Happy Ending, M/M, Oblivious Steve, Oblivious Steve Rogers, Suicide Attempt, depressed Bucky, no one dies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 10:42:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12057324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenclawWitch18/pseuds/RavenclawWitch18
Summary: Bucky is not having one of his good days. Will Steve make it better? Or will he just make everything worse?





	[Please] Will You Be Gentle With My Heart?

Bucky was having one of his bad days. Not one of his really bad days which usually saw him hiding in a small enclosed space with a knife ready in his hand. But a bad day where he was feeling insecure about whether or not he was wanted.

On these days he never felt like doing much. Steve usually took one look at him before pulling him into a quiet activity such as putting together a puzzle to reassure him that everything was okay and that he was wanted.

Today they were watching some cheesy romance movie. Steve had his feet propped up on a footstool. Bucky’s head was resting in his lap and he was curled up under a fuzzy blanket. Steve’s fingers were absently carding through his hair.

Normally, this would be enough to settle Bucky. Soft, soothing reassurance combined with Steve’s presence was key to helping Bucky settle and get through the day.

Not today.

Bucky couldn’t shake the dark thoughts. The ones that were telling him that he was useless, only good for killing and nothing else. That nobody wanted or needed him because who needed a killer? That he should be killed to make amends for all the people he had murdered.

Needing reassurance, Bucky wriggled and twisted until he was looking up at Steve.

“Steve?”

Steve hummed in response, looking down at Bucky.

“Do I ever cross your mind?”

Something flashed behind Steve’s eyes, too fast for Bucky to process what he had seen.

“No.”

Bucky felt his heart drop a little at that.

“Do you like me?”

“No.” Steve said simply.”

Bucky tried not to let the pain show on his face as he nodded before quickly turning back onto his side. He missed Steve opening his mouth to day something only to close it when Bucky turned away. Tears gathered at the corners of the brunette’s eyes and he forced them back, not wanting Steve to know that he is upset.

During the last bit of the movie, Bucky tries to convince himself that things are still okay. That Steve still cares about him. That he only answered no because he was distracted by the movie.

He had almost convinced himself when one of the characters explained to his best friend how he would always want his girlfriend and nothing would ever change that.

The explanation sparks something in Bucky and leaves him with the burning need to ask Steve if he wants him. Surely Steve would say yes to that question. After all, he had spent months looking for Bucky before Bucky allowed him to catch up.

Lost in his thoughts, Bucky didn’t notice Steve getting up, carefully setting his head down on a pillow. When he came back to himself, Steve was in the kitchen, starting dinner.

For a few minutes, Bucky laid there and listened to the sounds coming from the kitchen. It was soothing to listen to. It made him feel safe.

Getting up from the couch, Bucky made his way over to the kitchen only to stop in the doorway. Steve was reaching into one of the cabinets and Bucky took a moment to admire the play of muscles in Steve’s back through his shirt. When Steve had turned back to the stove, Bucky stepped forward.

“Stevie, do you want me?” He asked.

“No, Bucky.” Steve answered without turning around.

Bucky felt his heart beginning to crack. He placed his metal hand over his heart, as if he could stop it from breaking into two.

“O-oh.” He said softly.

Turning, Bucky quickly fled to the safety of his room. He didn’t hear Steve calling his name behind him. Could barely hear anything over the sound of his own hitched breathing.

Door banging shut behind him, Bucky flung himself face first onto his bed, burying his head under the pillow in an effort to block out the vicious thoughts circling around his mind.

_Steve doesn’t want me. He doesn’t want me. Doesn’t need me._

_Why am I even here? I should leave. End it so Steve doesn’t have to deal with me._

Unable to escape his thoughts, Bucky scrambled out from under the pillow, falling off the bed in the process. His hard landing on the floor knocked a picture of the Brooklyn skyline off the night stand.

Groaning, Bucky got up to put it back. As he put the picture next to the others, his gaze fell on an older picture. This one was taken during the war, just after he had fallen.

It showed Steve sitting in the bombed out shell of the bar they had gone to after Steve had rescued him from Azzano. There was a whiskey bottle on the table next to him and Steve was idly holding a shot glass in his right hand as he stared blankly down at the table, mouth turned down at the corners. The picture broke Bucky’s heart. Steve looked like his whole world had come crashing down around him.

Peggy had given him the picture on one of his bad days, when he had gone to see her. She had been mostly aware that day when she explained how she had come by the picture.

After the war, a newspaper photographer had delivered it to her, saying he had taken the photo but he hadn’t felt right letting the newspaper use it. So he had given it to Peggy. Peggy gave it to him so that he would always have a reminder of how much he meant to Steve.

Looking at the picture, Bucky remember how Peggy had told him that she suspected the memory of Bucky was the only thing that had kept Steve going. It also gave him a question that he could ask Steve. One that would hopefully give him the answer he desired.

A knock on the door echoed through the room, making Bucky start.

“Bucky?” Steve called from the other side of the door. “Dinner is ready, if you’re hungry. If not, I’ll put your half in the fridge and you can eat it when you want.”

Heavy footsteps receded from the door as Steve went back to the kitchen.

Bucky took deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart and thoughts. It took a few minutes, but he was eventually able to slow his heartbeat down to normal and mostly get his thoughts under control. A few of the darker thoughts slipped free of his control and whispered poisonous words to him. Words that told him he should just end it. That nobody wanted him. That everybody, especially Steve, was tired of how little profess he was making with his recovery.

Shoving these thoughts aside and taking another deep breath, Bucky opened the door. As he padded down the hall on assassin quiet feet, thankfully he still had that skill, he tried to rearrange his face so as not to give anything away to Steve. Or at least so as not to let that things were worse than Steve thought they were.

By the time he entered the kitchen, Bucky was confident that Steve wouldn’t be able to tell where his thoughts had been these last few hours.

Steve looked up as he hovered awkwardly by his chair.

“Hey Buck. Hungry?” He asked.

Bucky nodded and felt his heart skip a few beats when Steve gave him a bright smile that lit up his whole face. He could feel the corners of his mouth tugging up in a mirror smile as his heart pulled itself back together a little. That one smile quieted some of the darker, more vicious thoughts that were circling his mind.

“Sit down. I’ll get you a plate. What would you like to drink?”

Steve jumped up and pulled out the other chair for Bucky. Once he was sitting down and settled at the table, Steve went over to the pot on the stove and sighed up a steaming plate of pasta, added a piece of garlic bread, and grabbed a glass of milk. Turning back to the table, Steve placed the food in front of Bucky. Bucky felt his heart mend just a little bit more as he took in the food.

Steve had made chicken Alfredo, Bucky’s favorite meal. It reminded him that Steve did care for him, at least a little. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have made Bucky’s favorite dinner to cheer him up on a bad day.

As he ate his dinner, Bucky remembered what he wanted to ask Steve.

“Steve, would you cry if I ever left?”

“No Buck. You can’t leave the tower yet anyway. You’re still on probation, remember?”

Bucky’s heart stung a little at the reminder that though he was technically free, he still didn’t have a lot of freedom to do as he pleased. And his heart was starting to agree with the dark thoughts viciously telling him that Steve no longer wanted him. That he didn’t care about Bucky.

No matter how he phrased his questions, Steve’s answer was the same.

No.

Bucky’s thoughts began to spiral down into the dark pit that was always waiting for him to lose the tenuous grasp he had on his thoughts. The dark pit welcomed him eagerly, reaching out eagerly as he fell. Just as he did so many years ago from the side of a train on a snowy mountain.

Bucky tried to grab ahold of his thoughts again but it was too late. They had already slipped beyond his grasp and the dark thoughts he worked so hard to suppress were already whispering their poisonous words. Words that reinforced his earlier thoughts of how Steve didn’t want him. Didn’t need him. How he was only doing this out of a sense of duty and because Captain America never turned down a chance to help unless he absolutely had to.

Wanting to get away from the poisonous thoughts, Bucky abruptly stood up and made his way to the door. He wasn’t sure where he was going or what he was going to do. He just knew he needed to get away.

A hand on his arm made him pause.

Blinking through the haze, he registered Steve standing next to him. After a few minutes, he was able to make out some words, and then understand what Steve was saying.

“Bucky? Can you hear me? Are you okay?”

Bucky nodded. Which question he was answering, he wasn’t entirely sure.

“Talk to me Bucky. What’s going through your mind?”

Bucky stood there for several long minutes, moth opening and closing a few times as he struggled to make his voice work. When he finally got it to cooperate, the only thing that would come out was another question.

“Stevie, if I asked you to, would you live for me?”

Steve’s brow furrowed.

“Bucky, where are all these questions coming from?” He asked.

Yes or no.” Bucky insisted.

“No.” Steve answered.

Bucky could feel the tears threatening at the corners of his eyes. He roughly pushed past Steve and hurried down the hall to his room. He burst in the room so quickly that the door banged off the wall before rebounding back and catching on the door frame.

Tears blurred his eyes and he collapsed on the floor halfway between the door and the bed.

_Steve doesn’t want me. He doesn’t want me, doesn’t need me. He’s only helping me out of pity._

**You should end it. End it now. Stop being a burden on Steve. Steve deserves better than having to look after your sorry ass all the time.**

Bucky didn’t even flinch at the vicious thoughts that filled his mind. He knew they were right. Steve did deserve better. He had always known that. Even back when they were kids and Bucky was the one who had most of the advantages. Steve had always deserved better than what life had given him. And that included Bucky.

He knew what he had to do. If he was being honest with himself, he had known this was coming for a while. He would never gain the trust of the other Avengers and earn his freedom. And Steve didn’t want this version of Bucky. He wanted the version that had fallen from the train. The version that had died on Hydra’s table. That version was never coming back. That James Buchannan Barnes was dead and gone for good.

Drying his tears, Bucky turned to look at the bathroom. That would be the best place to do it. If he did it in the bathtub, it would be easy for Steve to clean up the mess that would surely result from this. Or whoever came to clean it up since he was sure Steve would have better things to do.

Decision made, Bucky pushed himself up from the floor and started for the bathroom. Just as he reached for the handle, a soft knock came at his door. Bucky paused, not entirely sure if he had heard it. Just when he was about to decide that he was hearing things, it came again. A little louder this time.

Curiosity briefly resurfacing, Bucky changed direction and headed for the door leading to the hall.

“Hello?” He rasped.

“Bucky?”

He closed his eyes. Steve. Of course. He wasn’t sure why he was surprised. Of course Steve would come to check on him. After the way he had left dinner, Steve was bound to be a little worried.

“If you can hear me Bucky, I just wanted to check on you. I know today hasn’t been a good day for you, but I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Would you do anything for me, Steve?”

“No Bucky.”

This time, Bucky was prepared for the crack in his heart to widen a little more. It still hurt, but not as much as it would of if he had been unprepared. He had just one more question. The answer to this would determine his fate.

He leaned against the door, desiring the last bit of closeness he would have with Steve.

“Choose – me or your life?”

“Bucky, I don’t understand.” Steve pleaded.

“It’s a simple question, Steve.”

“Bucky.” Steve begged.

“Choose, Steve.” Bucky demanded.

Through the thick door, Bucky could make out the sound of Steve drawing in a shaky breath.

“My life.”

Bucky nodded. Steve’s answer had steeled his resolve. Though he technically knew it wasn’t possible, he swore he heard a loud crack as his heart finished splitting into two.

“I’d like to be alone for a little while Stevie.”

Bucky could easily see the worried look on Steve’s face as he asked “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, Steve.”

“Promise you’re okay?”

“I promise.” The lie rolled easily off his tongue. “I just need some time to think.”

“Alright.”

Steve went back down the hall, presumably to the living room, taking half of Bucky’s heart with him. Not that he realized it.

Once he was sure Steve was out of earshot, Bucky turned and made his way to the bathroom. There, he pulled out the second drawer and reached inside. He had to twist his wrist at an odd angle in order to grab the knife that he had hidden on the side of the sink, next to the rail the drawer was on.

Pulling the knife out, he examined it. It was his best knife and one he had kept hidden from Shield during the time he was in their custody. As soon as he had been released to Steve’s care and left alone in his new room, he had immediately looked for a hiding place for it. The knife shone and tilting it to see the glint on the edge, he was able to determine that it was still perfectly sharp.

Knife in hand, Bucky climbed into the bathtub and pulled the curtain closed.

Encased in the dim lights, Bucky transferred the knife from his flesh hand to his metal one. Thanks to his assassin training, he knew exactly where to cut and how deep to do it in order to ensure a quick and mostly painless death. Maybe he deserved to suffer after all the suffering he had caused, but Bucky didn’t want to draw this out. He wanted it to be done and over before Steve thought to come looking, as Bucky knew he would.

Placing the edge of the knife against the vein in his wrist, Bucky tipped his head back to rest against the wall. Despite everything, he didn’t want to watch.

He quickly pressed the knife in and drew it back, all the way to his elbow. Blood flowed freely from the cut and he let the knife clatter to the bottom of the tub.

Black spots quickly took over his vision and he let his eyes fall shut.

“Goodbye, Steve.” He whispered.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to post this earlier in honor of Worldwide Suicide Awareness Day. Unfortunately, life got in the way. There will be a second chapter that will be posted next weekend. Maybe sooner. Again, it depends on real life.
> 
> I dedicate this story to my friend Casey, who is a suicide attempt survivor. My life would be vastly different without her and I'm not sure I would have half the plans for my future if she wasn't around to encourage me and be part of some of them.


End file.
